Wolfsgate (42 page)

“I did get that impression,” Brandon said. “But I didn’t think it ran so deep.”

“It’s a serious problem, sir. One your cousin is not happy about. In fact, they left London earlier than usual this season because of it.”

“Ah, that must have been a blow, imagine the shame.” Brandon rapped the table with his knuckles.

“Seems she was in debt before they married, and lo and behold, all her debts were cleared immediately after.”

“Really?”

“Yes. However, just before you came back from the dead, her debt mounted once again, and roughly half of it was cleared. The rest still stands demanding to be paid.” Davidson lifted his mug to his lips and drank, his eyes beaming at Brandon.

His manservant brushed down the back of his frock coat then smoothed the fabric down over his shoulders, but Brandon’s attention was riveted on Justine across their chamber. She sat at her vanity table in her corner dressing room opening her perfume bottles, a robe tied carelessly about her, her thick hair falling loose down her back.

“Leave.” He jerked his chin sharply at the servant. The young man bowed and swiftly quit his dressing room.

Brandon’s pulse hammered as he watched Justine trail a small glass wand up and down an arm, then around her throat daubing her skin. She dipped the wand in the bottle once more and slid the wand down her other arm. The scent of roses filled the air. How could the scent of a common flower be so bloody intoxicating?

He grabbed the jewelry box from his dresser, his hand sweeping down his necktie as he approached her. She met his gaze in her looking glass offering him a small smile. The loose robe slipped down her arms as he moved back her hair from one shoulder and grazed her soft skin with his lips. “Beautiful.”

“It’s only roses, nothing extraordinary.”

“On you, that’s exactly what it is.” He planted a kiss behind her ear, and she quivered under his gentle touch. He slid the robe higher over her bare shoulders and cleared his throat. “I have news, my inquiries in town bore fruit. William is not in debt.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh. But then…?”

“Amanda is.” Brandon’s eyes relaxed over Justine as she absorbed the news.

“Amanda?”

“For years now, general overspending and then more at the gaming tables. Her father was always a very conservative fellow, I can’t imagine he would put up with this from his daughter. Social disaster. I don’t think their living could cover a Duchess’s spending. William, personally, has no debt. Never has.”

She turned in her dainty chair to face him. “This has been about Amanda all along?”

“He must have promised to save her from herself. I wonder, she agreed to marry him thinking she would continue to live the good life without the pressure of her father hanging over her, and with William to handle her mess. William has always enjoyed the finer things in life, but not to excess. That’s why I found his need for so much money curious. My thoughts also went to his possibly needing capital for a new business venture, but he was always careful never to overextend himself. Charles confirmed to me that William has not been engaged in any new, overly-ambitious enterprises of late.”

“Strange that he would marry such a self-indulgent creature,” said Justine.

“Love is a great tormentor,” Brandon said, his eyes fell to her mouth. “But our local Duchess is unable free herself from the bonds of her passion, and William’s resources have their limits. It makes sense that he would need to dip into mine.”

“He’s been protecting her all along.”

“Like the good husband that he is.”

“Yes.”

The muffled sounds of curt voices and bustling footsteps boomed in the hallways. Musical instruments being loosened and prepared echoed from downstairs.

“Damn, I don’t like all this commotion in my house.”

Justine laughed. “Oh, it will all be over by this evening,” she said turning back to face the looking glass.

He stilled, something in his chest tugged at her words. They were eerily akin to what she had told him earlier in the week, weren’t they?

“
We can discuss all this again, make a decision after the party.”

“It’s not a ball, Brandon, nor is it a dinner. It’s a tea. A formal one, but only a tea. Cling to that.”

“I shall cling to a great many things,” he murmured. He placed the jewelry box on the table before her. “This is for you,” he said, his eyes remaining on hers in the glass. “Merry Christmas, Lady Graven.”

Her eyes fell to the box, her brow pinched together.

“Open it,” he said at her side, fingering a lock of her hair at her shoulder. She snapped open the hinge, pulled back the lid. The necklace gleamed at her in the candlelight.

Justine’s eyes widened as she fingered the bright green stones and the crystal clear diamonds. “You don’t have to do this, Brandon,” her voice shook.

“Give my wife a Christmas present?”

“It’s very…”

“Breathtaking, like you.”

“Brandon—”

“Do you like it?” She slid her eyes closed for a moment. “It’s Christmas, sweet girl.”

“You’re being kind.”

Brandon let out a laugh as he took the necklace from the box. “Kind would be offering you a cup of hot chocolate or an extra wool blanket on a cold winter’s night.” She drew her hair out of his way, and he laid the necklace around her throat and clasped it there. He brushed his fingers across the nape of her neck and planted a soft kiss there.

“You honor me,” she said, a tremor in her voice.

“The honor is mine.” His fingers lingered at her throat, traced across her collarbone, then drifted over her bare shoulder. She made a slight noise in the back of her throat. “It’s beautiful, Justine. You’re beautiful.” His voice came out hoarse. Her wet eyes held his in the looking glass, and her lips parted.

“‘Beggin’ your pardon.” Lizzie hesitated in the doorway.

Justine’s hand darted to his at her shoulder. “Go, Brandon. Lizzie needs to deal with my unruly hair.” She wiped at her eyes.

He smirked and leaned in close to her. “I like your hair unruly,” he whispered in her ear as he ran the back of his knuckles gently down the side of her face. He left the women in the dressing room, but turned to take a final glimpse of his wife’s reflection in the looking glass.

Lizzie ran a brush through a thick strand of that tousled hair. Brandon’s heart beat heavy and full inside his chest. Justine’s dark eyes were luminous, her cheeks flushed, his necklace sparkled at her throat.

Justine smoothed down the silk of her dark green gown. She was continuing in the Graven family tradition this afternoon, and a flare of pride glowed inside her that she could do this for Brandon.

“I love you.”

Her hand went to the emeralds and diamonds at her throat. The back of her eyes stung as his precious words rushed through her. He was only being comforting and kind, wasn’t he? They were good friends and close companions. Anything else would be…

She knew what it would be, so she decided she wouldn’t think about it. Not now at least.

“There, finished.” Lizzie released the last ringlet and arranged it over her back.

Justine smiled at their reflection in the large mirror. Would she ever do this again? Prepare for an evening’s entertainment here at Wolfsgate to be at Brandon’s side as his Lady Graven?

The girl sighed. “You look beautiful, milady.”

Justine blinked at her. “Thank you, Lizzie.”

“Much prettier than Mrs. Treharne could ever be, even though she has that fairy princess hair and those doll-like eyes. You’re glowing, you are, ‘cause you have a good heart, and it shows. ‘Tis rare, that. I was only in service at her house a short time, but she seldom had a kind word. I’m right glad I had to quit working there last year.”

“I’m glad you’re here with me, Lizzie.”

“So is I, ma’am.”

Justine shifted her weight in her chair. “Was Mrs. Treharne ever mean to you?”

“No, just cold. As one is to servants, I suppose. But,” Lizzie lowered her voice as she stacked Justine’s jewelry boxes in the drawer of the table, “she could be especially cold to Mr. Treharne.”

Justine’s eyes darted up to Lizzie’s in the mirror. “Oh?”

“He was ever so attentive to her, always bringing her little presents and such, being thoughtful, but she wouldn’t pay him or his gifts much mind. Once in a while, but not all the time. When it fancied her, I suppose. She had her moods. Other presents she liked better, and t’would act like a giddy young thing whenever she received them.” A smirk crossed Lizzie’s face as she organized the hair brush, combs and pins on the table top.

Justine quirked an eyebrow. “Other presents?”

“Yes,” Lizzie whispered. “Presents that t’weren’t from her husband.”

“You mean, from another man?”

Lizzie nodded and grinned. She leaned in closer to Justine. “From that handsome friend of his Lordship’s. The blond one, Mr. Charles.”

“From Mr. Montclare?” Justine’s hands gripped the edges of her cushioned seat. “Are you sure, Lizzie?”

“Oh yes ma’am, I saw one of his notes me’self. She’d left it open under a jewelry box by mistake when she and her lady’s maid were done. Awful mess they’d leave behind. Had me come in to put things to right. I know how to read, and I couldn’t help me’self when I saw it.”

“Lizzie!”

Lizzie bit her lower lip. “Well, I wouldn’t really call it a love note, ma’am,” the girl whispered, ”but he did express certain ideas that perhaps were not appropriate for a young girl such as me’self to read upon.” Lizzie let out a snort.

Justine put her hand to her middle. Gifts and erotic notes from Charles to Amanda. Over a year ago. The two of them together right under William’s nose.

“Have you spoken of this to anyone else?” Justine asked. Lizzie’s face tightened. She shook her head. “You must not, ever, Lizzie.”

“Yes ma’am. Am I in trouble? I’ve been indiscreet! Oh goodness. Forgive me. I’d never…Oh dear, I am a foolish girl! She is your brother’s wife. I am so sorry, ma’am. I didn’t think.” Lizzie’s hands flew to her mouth, her entire body stiffened.

Justine put her hand on the girl’s arm. “Lizzie, I appreciate your telling me, as I do care about my brother’s happiness.” Justine’s voice was calm and soothing. Lizzie’s shoulders dropped. “But it must remain our secret. Do you promise?”

Lizzie nodded, her eyes wide as saucers. “Promise.”

“
LADY GRAVEN AND I WELCOME YOU TO WOLFSGATE
.” Brandon raised his glass high. “Merry Christmas to all!”

Standing next to her husband, Justine raised her glass. The entire first floor was trimmed with garlands and swags of evergreens, the fresh, crisp aroma filling the house with keen expectation. The rooms were ablaze with a multitude of candles. Justine smiled at her guests, savoring the flare of excitement within her.

“Here! Here!” Cups and glasses clinked together as murmurings and ripples of laughter filled the hall. The rich scent of heated spices from the mulled ale perfumed the house. The musicians who had come from the village began to play once more, and the melodic strains of a French horn, trumpet, clarinet and bassoon rose through the house.

Justine took her husband’s arm and they moved through their guests in the great drawing room. Once alone in the hall, she shared with him Lizzie’s juicy bit of information about Amanda and Charles. A grin lit his face, and he tucked her hand in his and led her to a quiet corner of the dining room.